


horatio

by miehczyslaw



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: (its lily ofc its always lily), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/M, M/M, The Gore of Love and All, bbbffsdhjfjjdshrrrrra i love the rammsteiners an essay by me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miehczyslaw/pseuds/miehczyslaw
Summary: And there’s something in his garnet eyes and his crooked mouth and the bandages around his neck and his devil’s spine. Something in his hands that still hold Lily’s corpse and refuse to let go of her, even now.Heine’s grip loosens.And Giovanni thinks a very dangerous thing.





	horatio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sakurapanchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurapanchi/gifts).



> for wan, obviously.

**one**

These his gentle fangs

who dream of breaking flesh and bone— as a flower blooming in spring— sometimes cause him an absurd dread.

**two**

The truth is:

Giovanni wants to bury his tears in a grave made of guts— and then laugh at the headstone a little stooped to the right, maybe shoot it a couple of times and fill it with holes— and run away from that house that isn’t a home because no matter how hard he tries Mother's favorite will always be _fucking beloved Heine_ — even when Heine disappears from their map for a while.

“Giovanni my sweet child, you are defective.”

But he doesn’t know how to cry, either, has forgotten how to, so he can’t (“shut up, shut up, shut up—”).

You see, in the end Giovanni has always been _a coward._

He’s the youngest puppy in the pack, the one that survives by eating the leftovers from the rest and learns to hunt for necessity and not pleasure. He’s not afraid to admit his cynicism and accepts this fact. The melodramatic laments have always been more a Heine thing anyway. Giovanni prefers the sly smiles. The warm trigger near the thorax, bullets-fangs in the ribs, howling at plumb moons.

If he stays quiet he can almost hear Lily's screams scratching the walls.

white

yellow

white

red red RED.

(They remind him of flowers and _three children who we’re stupid enough_ to love each other while being in hell).

Suddenly Lily stops screaming.

**three**

“You’re jealous of Heine, aren’t you?” she asks him, once. “For killing me,” she clarifies, without waiting for his answer, “Poor thing.” And she’s blurred at the edges, like wet paper where the ink is diluted. And her ocean eyes are on fire, her clothes lack color as well.

She looks _so small_ that Giovanni’s almost sure she will break from him just thinking about her.

_“You were the strongest of us, why the hell did you go first.”_

He doesn’t say it.

Giovanni doesn’t say many things in fact, neither with his lips nor his eyes. (Because Angelika is all teeth and Giovanni has been in her shadow for many years—

It’s easier to smile and hide behind insect-glasses and smoke.)

Heine can keep all the noise and razor-sharp looks. Those are things that belong to him, for a change.

“Of course!” Giovanni says instead. “I dream every night with having torn your throat instead of Heine.” And it’s not a lie, not exactly, but there’s no malice in his words, either. “I dream of having you in my arms, if only once.”

—of splashing in your blood before you leave so I can have something real to yearn of you instead of this horrible and disgusting nostalgia that eats me up, up, up—

And maybe... perhaps...

Giovanni my sweet child, you are ( _defective_.)

“... If it had been me who broke you in the past, you would still be here Lily.”

 _I wouldn’t have known how to kill you well_.

Giovanni stops talking.

And Lily hugs him, then.

(Giovanni tries very hard to not think that it would hurt less to be strangled by her.)

**four**

It’s very easy, really. Making Heine— his dearest _brother—_  angry.

A mere condescending comment here, some improvised dance steps there, a squeeze on his strap.

When they meet, more and more often these days, Heine looks almost eager to bury his nails on Giovanni and snarl at him and stamp him on the floor. Giovanni seeks those moments, if he’s honest with himself. Because they’re the reminder that Heine is still alive and that regardless of the suicidal stupidities that he may proclaim to his friends (“they aren’t your family Heine, _you can’t replace_ us _, you can’t replace_ her—”) he’ll continue like this. Not dead, but with his aggressive heartbeat and his lungs inhaling and exhaling oxygen, in and out, in and out and his hot hot hot skin.

 _You’re alive, for fucks sake! Look at_ _me. Even with hatred! I’m alive, too_.

Lily died but Heine’s the one that looks more like a ghost. _That_ infuriates Giovanni.

So there are shots and barks and soon Heine is on top of him and there’s a distant memory too, of both of them, smaller ones, caressing their healed wounds that still hurt. But he blinks and the image fades.

“Well, well. If I didn’t know you I’d say that you’ve missed me.”

Heine growls.

“Gio,” it’s all he says, as a warning.

But that’s it.

And there’s something in his garnet eyes and his crooked mouth and the bandages around his neck and his devil’s spine. Something in his hands that still hold Lily’s corpse and refuse to let go of her, even now.

Heine’s grip loosens.

And Giovanni thinks a very dangerous thing.

 _I could maim your lips with mine Heine. Not with love but the closest thing we know to it, this visceral and carnivorous want that hides under the floorboards of our stray hearts_.

He doesn’t dare though (of course, that's the thing— Giovanni never _dares._ )

If Lily was still with them Heine probably would have already kissed her.

The revelation doesn’t bother him, never has had, but it does cause him some discomfort from which he can’t recognize the name. However this tiny eternal thought passes very soon and nothing happens.

Heine leaves and Giovanni stays  
 _(alone)_ , again.

Violence’s a comfort.

**five**

(He finds it hard to not look at Heine holding Lily’s hand whenever he can, as if she were a person and not a monster, not even trying to hide it from the others. Heine touches her gently and awkwardly but not ashamed and Lily allows him to, with this sweet mosaic expression of hers that threatens to split the world in two and makes Giovanni drown in his own saliva more often than not. So cruel. If he felt jealousy it would be less _painful_ but Giovanni is just afraid. Afraid that one day the madness in this place is going to be so much, so much that Heine’s gonna stop interwining his fingers with Lily and start breaking her skull instead. Quickly, and as if reading his mind, Lily turns to look at him and approaches him, pulling Heine as well. She takes his hand like Heine’s, without hesitation, and gives it a tender squeeze. Then Lily smiles and Heine smiles and Giovanni smiles because they’re all fragmented but not quite broken, not yet, and his fear moves away to rest. He feels his chest warm. A tender-warm, a good-warm. Like drippling blood. It’s almost like lov—)

Suddenly Giovanni wakes up.

(and there’s only one corpse, but three ghosts)

At his side Lily’s half-rotted shadow greets him.

(and there’s only one corpse, but three ghosts)

Heine’s somewhere else still.

(only one corpse, three ghosts)

...why should he cry?

**zero**

(they’re dogs, by the afternoon.)


End file.
